


A Dime a Dozen

by Quilljoy



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 11:23:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8748610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quilljoy/pseuds/Quilljoy
Summary: Porpentina finds out about her sister's particular obsession with terrible literature. There's nothing realistic about falling in love with your boss – or is there? In which Tina finds herself enacting the plot of a corny romance, and she doesn't like it one bit.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've started a Graves/Credence story. I've started a Grindelwald/Graves story. And yet, here I am, typing furiously this idea that has not yet left me... Like me, writing the straights?? Whaaaat? 
> 
> Have fun, you guys.

 

> _“Mister Greyve,” Cristina gasped. Her chest heaved with need for air, for space – but most of all, for him. It’d have been uncouth to make any advances towards her boss, but oh! How she wanted to forget her manners, instilled in her by her religious family. They had warned her; the city was no place for a lady of her upbringing. There was too much temptation under the street lights of the Broadway, where actresses peddled their trade with their red lipsticks and flapper dresses, accompanied by handsome men, powerful cars._
> 
> _Cristina saw it all now. Her Father’s sermons, her mother’s warnings. How could she, a poor little country girl, working her way up in New York, resist this man’s charms? He was a strong fellow, and his age had only set him apart from the other men who worked together with her at the police district. As the new secretary, she’d become used to the improper advances of the rough officers, but Mr. Greyve had never once looked her way. It was only duty that brought them close together and she knew there was no ill intent behind his actions when he took her between his manly arms._
> 
> _“I’m most terribly sorry,” he said, and Cristina could not help but close her eyes in fright. Her slender wrists trembled when she wrapped them around his shoulders. Mr. Greyve was tall and handsome, and she’d never been so close to a man in her life before, much less a man like Mr. Greyve, chief of the police department, whose job kept him in perpetuate peril and now risked his life – and of others._
> 
> _“I never meant for you to be caught amidst all this.”_
> 
> _Strong hands placed his lovely charge back into the floor. Cristina’s legs threatened to give in, but Mr. Greyve secured her by the waist. She sobbed deeply, for he probably thought her to be weak and in need of protection. How could he fight the crime lord’s own men if his lovely – albeit rather clumsy and inexperienced – secretary was always in need of rescue?_
> 
> _“I was so frightened. I thought they’d– I thought–”_
> 
> _“Hush. You need not to speak further.” Mr. Greyve shushed her with one finger to her lips. The tears had already begun falling, and Cristina could not help herself anymore._
> 
> _The man was rough, yet gentle. In moments like these, she could barely recognize her boss, who’d demand so many impossible tasks to be filled, and yet could show her such kindness._
> 
> _“Please, Mr. Greyve,” she whispered. Their mouths were inches apart. Her heart fluttered like a bird in a cage, who needed to be free of its burdens, of captivity. Would he kiss her, one day? Cristina knew she was no proper city gal, like her fellow coworkers, with their latest fashions and well coiffed hairdos. Mr. Greyve would certainly prefer one of them, a woman more experienced, and not_

 

 

Tina snapped the book shut.

“Sister?” Queenie rang from the kitchen. “Is everything alright?”

Flies were beginning to sneak into their home together with the summer air. Should the windows not have been closed, the novel would’ve been promptly tossed outside. Instead, Porpentina Goldstein found herself fanning off the heat with the pages, crumbs falling from the dusty book into her lap.

“Yeah,” she mouthed between voracious little bites. She’d the dime novel into one hand, a chocolate cookie in the other, and a cup of iced tea magicked into floating, from which she sipped regularly to water down the dessert. The ice had long melted, and Tina felt hotter than ever. “I just don’t understand these non-maj stories you pick up.”

A tap-tap-tap of heels clicking against the floor boards rushed closer as her sister peeked out of the kitchen. Before Queenie could explain herself, Tina changed the subject.

“I can’t believe we’re in the middle of June. Haven’t we got any left-over weather charms?”

“I’m sorry.” Queenie waved her wand, and brought Tina’s cup closer. She refilled it with ice. “We’re all out. But I’m sure someone will try and smuggle some these days. You can always grab them from MACUSA afterwards. What were you saying about my books?”

“I don’t get them.” With one thumb, she swiped away a chocolate chip from her lip. ”The book would’ve been over already if any of them knew any spells. And– And there are no evil wizards. Or fierce battles. Just…”

“Just two saps in love?”

Well, Tina thought, just lust. But she couldn’t go around talking about that in front of her little sister. Even if said book, she reckoned, belonged to her in the first place. Queenie had always loved reading, but the dime novels were piling up on the living room so high they were about to come crashing down. They had, in fact, just this evening, when Tina made the mistake of throwing her suitcase without looking where. The day had been a long one, she’d mosquito bites on her ankles, and she was just. So. Tired. Auror work was a heavy one, and not particularly rewarding some days.

So the books had fallen. Heaps of them, with lurid cover art depicting scantly clad heroines in the powerful arms of alpha males. Tina was in such a state of shock she’d fallen into a chair and promptly devoured the first books of the pile.

It had been vile. Licentious, even. How could Queenie, of all people – her sweet, darling young sister – fall for these? First of all, the heroines were nearly and always stupid. Despite differences in settings, all authors agreed, apparently, that every single one of them had to trip over their feet and be inexplicably incompetent every time aman showed up. They were described by words such as “virtuous”, “hard-working”, “dainty” and “noble” at nearly every paragraph. Second, the plot was barely there. Struggles of captivity, forced marriages, and attempted rape and-slash-or seduction all tended to mingle after a while. And most unnerving of all, every man that graced the pages was in love with the mumbling idiots.

There were only two type of men, of course. The villain, whose attempts to debase the heroine only turned into an excuse to showcase her purity at fighting such evil. And the hero, who was always – always! – six feet tall, with bulging muscles, and usually shirtless despite the setting requiring it otherwise. Now, they usually came with varying backstories (prince, boss, police officer, rough farm boy, etc.), but Tina had flipped through three books in the span of five hours and not once the hero had not been a misogynistic, arrogant, irritant _asshole_.

She sank into the chair, flushed from rage.

“Maybe.”

“I’m glad you like them, though.” Her sister smiled, and Tina didn’t have the courage to correct her. “You can keep this one. I’ve already went through it like… Five times! It’s one of the best. It’d have been so nice, if any of the boys at MACUSA were like Greyve.”

Tina clenched her teeth.

“You sure?”

“It’d be very nice, indeed.”

“Don’t you think there’s someone like that?” A selfish, authoritarian bastard?

“I don’t think so.”

“Not at all?”

“Not that I know of.”

If Queenie had noticed any similarities – in name or otherwise – to their Director of Magical Security, she kept her mouth shut about that. Granted, she worked downstairs and in another department altogether, but still.

“He’s so dreamy,” Queenie continued. Tina was glad her sister could find it in her to talk openly with her about such, ah, things. But it still left her faintly embarrassed. “With his silver peppered hair and the clean shaven beard… With the finest of the suits, pressed neat – I really love how the author spent three pages describing his clothes. He’s so proper, isn’t he? Always going on and on about his duties. Not like Gerard, that fiend!”

“Uh,” Tina said. “I haven’t gotten to that part yet.”

Queenie shrugged.

“He’s the hero’s evil twin, who wants Christina at any cost.”

“Oh.”

Well, what an exciting reading. Tina felt like puking – but she also felt like reading the next twenty pages or so before going to sleep. She was nearing the chapter’s end, after all.

“I guess I’ll keep it, then,” she said, before rising from the couch. Tina stretched her limbs, feeling just how tired she’d actually been before. Her work clothes still clung to her skin with sweat, and it was so late – she needed to bathe and remove her make-up, and maybe eat something other than a tray of cookies.

She also needed to know if Cristina and Greyves would give in to their passionate feelings and kiss by the end of chapter eleven.

Oh, man. Who was she kidding? Of course they would.

Dinner. Bath. Clothes.

Tina clutched the novel to her chest.

“Do you want me to heat some mac&cheese for you, Teenie?”

“No, that’s alright. I can– I’ll do it myself, after the bath. You can head over to sleep. It’s getting late already.”

Queenie nodded to her, cleaning the tableware with a spell before placing them in the counter. She yawned – a long, pleasant sound, that had Tina yawning as well in no time – and made her way over to her room.

“Sleep tight,” she waved, before disappearing inside. Tina steeled herself, and made her way over to the bathroom, stretching her wand arm ready to warm some water.She brough the novel with her.

Sunk in the tub, book floating at eye-level, Tina eyed the door cautiously before, with a flick of her wrist, locking it closed.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I thought I'd be done by Sunday! Alas, this chapter is 3x longer than the last one. IDK what pacing is haha *sweating*

> _ Mr. Greyve’s stare burned into her neck. Cristina could feel his presence from across the room. _
> 
> _ “Cristina,” he called out to her, his voice nothing but a husky whisper. If only he knew how that tone left her a quivering mess of a girl. She could do nothing but imagine the wicked things his tongue could do as it slipped past his mouth, licking the dryness away from his lips. “Come here.” _
> 
> _ What option had she, but to comply? She approached with tentative steps.  _
> 
> _ “Yes, sir?” Her teeth bore into her bottom lip. She’d been penning a very important report, and her writing utensil was still clutched between her fingers. Cristina took the pen dubiously to her mouth. Mr. Greyve never called her unless absolutely necessary. _
> 
> _ He was elegant as ever, although there was a certain edge to his looks that morning. His usually well-coiffed hair was not parted properly, edging Cristina to fix it – as well as his tie – although it would be terribly impolite of her to do so. She opted to hold herself still, instead, albeit fidgeting rather clumsily with her pen. _
> 
> _ Mr. Greyve was looking at her like nothing before ever did. He was… hungry, even.  _
> 
> _ “Cristina, did you make my coffee to my specifications today?”  _
> 
> _ “Certainly, sir.” _
> 
> _ He’d complained so often she’d learned quickly. He was an exigent man and the assistant work was hard down at the precinct, but her mama hadn’t raised her a quitter.  _
> 
> _ “It’s cold, love.” _
> 
> _ The pet name felt like a slap. Cristina was startled at how easy the word fell from his lips, a deer caught in the headlights of Mr. Greyve’s captivating charms, heat rushing through her body despite the coldness at the statement.  _
> 
> _ “Make me another.” _
> 
> _ “Right away, s–” _
> 
> _ “Wait.” Mr. Greyve stopped her before she could leave the room. She hoped he didn’t notice her hurry. Cristina couldn’t be there for a second longer. She heard the liquid spilling before she turned to face him, and to her utter horror, Cristina saw the man pouring his entire cup of coffee on the floor. “Clean this before you leave.” _
> 
> _ She could not tear her gaze away from the pearly black droplets falling onto the carpeted fabric of Mr. Greyve’s expensive rug, the dampened spot growing larger with time. Once he was done, and she was trembling, Mr. Greyve drew closer to her. _
> 
> _ “Now, Cristina. Be a good girl.” _
> 
> _ Her face heated. She knew the tears were coming, but Cristina knew the truth behind them; she was frightened, yes, and facing the sudden cruelty Mr. Greyve now displayed was a reason to cry. Yet… Yet she found herself closing her eyes in despair, shame coiling in her gut, because Mr. Greyve had never been so close, never paid so much attention to her, the country gal, who’d never done so much as to attract his desires. _
> 
> _ “Yes, sir,” she found herself whispering, as she kneeled on the floor. Her handsome boss patted her on the head gently, then, and she almost whimpered in delight, before he gave her a cloth to start cleaning. She gingerly got to all fours, scrubbing the stain without much enthusiasm, before Mr. Greyve’s eyes on her became too much and she threw herself to work with abandon. _
> 
> _ The door to Mr. Greyve’s office slid open. Cristina hurried to her feet, flushed to the roots of her hair, and patted down her skirt. She was so busy looking to the polished tips of her shoes, taming her wild heart, she paid no attention to whomever opened the door. _
> 
> _ Mr Greyve was behind her. But once she looked up, the man was also startled by the door, exchanging glances to his doppelganger, who’d tightened his hand into a vice-like grasp around her arm. _
> 
> _ Cristina was in such a state of shock her legs gave in, and she’d have sunk gracefully to the floor, should Mr. Greyve not be holding her. _
> 
> _ Or was he? _
> 
> _ “How could this be…?” Her chest heaved with emotion.  _
> 
> _ “You have been fooled,” the Mr. Greyve who’d just entered the room said. “For this is my evil twin brother, Gerard.” _

 

“ – and you are not to engage with the Second Salemers under any circumstances.” 

Tina stifled a yawn. She wasn’t the only one. As long as it came to the Second Salemers, Graves’ speech turned bland, as if the man himself could not believe the words he was saying. He was pacing around the room, examining faces with disdain, a scowl marring his handsome - if a little weathered - features. He wasn’t nervous, but he didn’t have the casual stride of always. Whenever he talked about the Second Salemers, he deflated a little. Like he was getting old, just thinking about it.

“Am I understood?”

This was usually the part where every Auror in the vicinity would go “Yes, Mr. Graves”, but Tina only managed a nod. In fact, she must’ve dozed off the second she closed her eyes. Her chin hit her chest, and the moment she lifted her head up again the meeting room was empty.

“Mrs. Goldstein, I’m glad you decided to join me at last.”

It took her a couple of blinks before Graves came into focus. He was already sitting behind the desk, organizing the stacks of reports filled in by the Aurors in the case. Around him, the chairs were scattered. The grand clock indicated only fifteen minutes past noon. 

Graves carried a perpetual frown. Tina should be used to it already, but it was still slightly disconcerting to be on the other side of this expression, both tired and disappointed. She felt it was personally directed at her, even though she knew, for a fact, that she wasn’t the issue. (Tina didn’t know what the issue was but it couldn’t _ be _ her. She hadn’t slept much, in any case, and most of it had been done in her own lunch hour.)

Tina sighed. It wasn’t a transgression Graves was likely to ignore.

“I’m sorry, sir. I haven’t slept well yesterday.” _ Or at all _ , her brain provided,  _ unless you include when you passed out at the bath and nearly drowned _ . Rubbing the sleep away from her eyes, she smiled sheepishly, rising from her chair to stand dutifully by the desk. 

“It’s this heatwave. Phew! But don’t worry,” she added in a rush, the most earnest expression she could muster on her face. Seriously. Couldn’t he let her off, just this frigging time? Tina fidget with the lock of her briefcase. “I’ve caught the gist of it.”

She’d spent her time reading until the water turned cold, and then a bit more. Unlike her sister, Tina was a disaster at domestic spells, which turned destructive more often than not, and after exchanging into her PJs, it still took her over one hour before dinner was ready. Afterwards, it was a matter of being too hot to fall asleep. She was itchy, her skin, wrinkled, and a thin sheen of sweat covered her the second she’d towelled off. Honestly, summer happened to be the only time Tina was content to stay overtime at the MACUSA office.

“Have you, really?” He forego of his papers to stare at her. What an insufferable ass.

Tina chided herself. Living with a legilimens taught Tina one thing or two about thinking ill of others. She was so bothered by the lack of sleep, though, and the heat, and swatting mosquitoes away, and – and Cristina, for being such an useless twat. The frustration drew her stomach tight with anxiety and she felt like pacing around the room herself, now that Graves was composed and looking as smug as ever. 

It was super unfair. Unlike her, Cristina was dull, incompetent, and…  _ pretty _ . Was it all it took, really, for men to notice women? 

Her heel clicked impatiently against the floor.

All she needed was to see her sister. Queenie would understand. The boys in the Wand Permit office were usually much worse, and Mr. Graves wasn’t so bad, after all. Yes, not so bad. Tina attempted her best smile, and turned her body towards the door for emphasis. Just concerned. 

“Won’t bother the witch hunters, sir. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Graves, sir, I believe lunch hour isn’t already over…?”

An objection formed in his mouth and promptly died there, as an alarm ring cut through the silence in the office. The briefcase slipped from her fingers and hit the ground with a soundless impact as Graves jumped out of his seat.

“Aw, shit.”

Her hands went to her mouth instantly. Graves strode to the door, swinging it open in one fluid motion, and Tina took the advantage to take a peek on the outside. 

The magical alarm had been set to _ constant shrieking _ , but the hallways were unsurprisingly peaceful. An elf ran across them, then made his way back – or perhaps it was another elf, Tina wouldn’t be able to tell. There was a shout (a single, singular yelp of “what the-?”) coming from one end of the offices. The typing machines continued hammering the keys furiously, as no witch was there to enchant them to stop, and in the kitchens, the steam coming from a kettle started to whistle loud enough for them to hear under all the noise. 

“Lunch hour, I told you,” Tina whispered to Graves, who shot her an annoyed glance. It was not her fault! Only a workaholic, overstressed maniac would be around at times like that.

Seraphina Picquery apparated so close to her they nearly smooched. 

“Madam President!” Tina stumbled backwards. For her utter horror, only Graves’ solid form behind her stopped her from falling, and Tina could practically feel where the terrible plot would form, should she be in a novel. His hand steadied her by the shoulder and she froze.

Picquery gently yet firmly pulled her out of the room and into the hall.

“You. You will have to do.”

Tina stared into her eyes and said the only thing that made sense.

“What?”

“Someone stole into the CCD.”

“Again?” Tina and Graves said, and immediately exchanged glances. 

Picquery took her hand to her temples, massaging the headache that was beginning to form.

“Look, unlock the poor bastard. I’ve got more pressing matters.” Which meant, of course, that she hadn’t had her lunch yet. Tina rolled her eyes. If they kept moving her further away from Auror work, she’d be sitting issuing wand permits in no time. The President gestured in irritation, producing a keychain from her pocket, and hung it around Tina’s wrist. “Just go.” 

“Yes, Madam.” 

She held her breath until Picquery was gone, exhaling soundly as her shoulders slumped and she dragged herself away from the meeting room. When Tina was a child, she thought being an Auror would be exciting. Protecting the Statute of Secrecy, fighting against Dark Wizards, apprehending illegal Non-Maj contraband. Nobody had told her it’d be mostly paperwork and office errands. 

“I thought you enjoyed making arrests, Mrs. Goldstein.”

Tina turned back, and shrugged at Graves with an apologetic smile. As her superior officer, Mr. Graves had to accompany her on arrests, least she jumbled up something ordinary. The man was probably working himself to death. She’d feel sorrier for him if he didn’t take it out on her.

“I do,” she confessed. Tina had never seen him take a day off. He had no siblings either and, since everyone was his subordinate, no one he could talk to as equals (which didn’t mean he had to treat the rest of them like house elves). “But it should be… I don’t know.”

“Well, Mrs. Goldstein. You’re still a junior. You have to prove your competence first.”

Tina swallowed her words and smiled.

“Yes, sir.”

Yes. Yes, a perfectly ordinary, pleased-to-serve-you smile, in an ordinary businesswoman face. She hurried up. If she didn’t shut up the shrieking in five minutes, she’d go ballistic on Graves’ face. They’d have to pry her fingers from his eyeballs.

The mental image was strangely satisfactory. 

Wasn’t like she disagreed with him, either, but there had to be better words for talking with your subordinates. Tina tried not being so upset. How could she ever prove herself, if she was given only menial tasks? She looked behind her shoulder to see Graves following up close, hands in his pockets, wand tucked away as if there was no real danger. Cristina’s words stuck to her mind.

> _ Mr. Greyve was prim; not a hair out of place, not a gesture out of line. Albeit not courteous, he’d always been proper to her, to Cristina’s dismay. She’d shown her affection in the little things: the coffee, memorized to be just how he liked it. The neat way she organized his documents in the desk. The brush she brought to his coat, to keep it clean. Yet there was not a task he noticed, and not a job he didn’t demand more. _
> 
> _ It was alright, she thought, dreamily. Yes, she dreamed of making an honest man out of him. But Mr. Greyve was already the definition of a righteous gentleman. Yes, perhaps he was not as gentle as he could be. But his coldness had its charm, and unlike all the other police officers, he wasn’t a flirt. He treated the women no different than he’d treat a man, not even Isabella, who was always fawning over him, her blouse’s cut so low he had a full view of her bosom whenever she’d serve him coffee. Cristina chuckled. Isabella had left his office red and crying after being reprimanded due to her impractical clothing.  _

It didn’t take Tina and Gravers more than two fight of stairs to reach the CCD. Between opulent wooden doors and golden gates, it was charmed to attract no attention, and sit inconspicuously between the Finance Department and the ladies’ restroom. 

Well, it’d have been inconspicuous, if there wasn’t currently a face in it, and it had been screaming.

“Wand, Mr. Graves,” Tina requested. 

As if to mock her, Graves flicked his wrist, and the magic carried solely through his fingers silenced the screaming door. He said no words. No words at all. Every time Tina saw it happen, she was both amazed and terrified of Mr. Graves, certain he only used this magic of his to show superiority over other wizards, but understanding it was the best possible outcome. The day he wanted to do more than being an arrogant prick… 

She gulped down. It was hard to control both her horror and the giddy squeal that threatened her whole professional demeanor. Wandless magic– well. It was kinda cool. Wordless, wandless magic?

“At your leisure, Mrs. Goldstein.”

“Right.” She adjusted her cap. 

TIna touched the door, and slowly pushed it open.

There was nothing but rows of stacked boxes. Due to its often sensitive content, the Confiscated Contraband Deposit had a seal in place that let wizards enter at their own will, yet locked them inside if they didn’t have the keys or the password. Unmarked supplies of Gigglewater, dangerous wands, and even livestock was cramped inside, waiting to be passed along or destroyed. Every now and then, a wizard stupid enough to try their chance with the seal would sneak in. 

Tina exhaled the breath she’d been holding.

“Oh, it’s empty.” She turned her back to the door. “Was there a–”

“Expulso!”

Her world exploded in blue. Tina only realized what had been happening when her back cracked against a wall, sending her to the floor in a spiral of agony. 

Tina gasped for air. Her breath was gone, her vision was gone. There was something thick and viscous dripping from her forehead. She felt for the blood before thinking. Tina smeared it away from her lashes. It couldn’t have taken more than a split second for the darkness to form into the image of a wizard, wand pointing at her, but she was powerless without her own.

Tucked inside her pocket. And she’d turned her back to the door, she ought to have never–

“Let me go,” a desperate voice said. “Let me go, or I’ll hurt her.”

There were wisps of magic curling away from the end of his wand. 

_ Crap _ , Tina thought. 

> _ “Let her go, Gerard.” _
> 
> _ Cristina whimpered as she felt the cold steel of Gerard’s gun against her temple. He caressed away her dark hair with it, trigger finger twitching with need to finish the deed. She felt faint. A single bead of sweat rolled down her nape. She always thought she would not cry when the time came, she would not plead, but there was she. _
> 
> _ “Please,” she begged, her voice still sweet, as Mr. Greyve’s hideous brother pressed up against her back. How could someone so good have a sibling so terrifying? _
> 
> _ “Fear not, my love,” Gerard said, lips pressing cold against her rosy cheek. His hands, which had often provided her with so much comfort when she thought him to be Greyve, were now clammy and sickening against her body. “We shall be joined in death.” _
> 
> _ “No!” _
> 
> _ A shot split the air. _

Double crap. She was going to die, and the last thing on her head was going to be most stupid scene ever written. Worst of all – she was going to die, and she’d never get to the end of the damn book!

Goddamit. She was supposed to be an Auror, not a distressed damsel, butt of all of her forming years’ jokes. 

“It-it’s going to be okay,” she said, in a raspy voice. To her horror, she found herself uttering the same words the useless heroine said time after time. “If you just let me go…”

“Tell him to point his damn wand away from my face!”

Tina squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again. Her vision swayed. Behind her, Mr. Graves stood still as a statue, threatening the thief. He’d been quick to his wits. Her pocket sagged with the weight of her wand; Tina couldn’t even reach for it in time, and there Graves was, tall in his glory, cape swaying as if he’d prepared for this moment. What an idiot. Tina bit into her bottom lip. No snickering. Sure, anxiety would be getting to her any second now. But this was not the appropriate moment to laugh.

“What the hell is so funny?”

“Nothing, no, I- Please?” She twisted her face back to Mr Graves, batting her eyelashes.

Graves opened up his palms, holding the wand between his thumb and index finger. He said nothing, stare fixed at the man, not her. 

“I’m putting it down.”

He lowered his body, crouching until he rested the wand just above the polished marble, rising with both hands up in the air after it was done. Tina found out she couldn’t take his eyes away from him.

Wrong, wrong, wrong. She wasn’t going to get caught by her superior in another mistake. What the hell was up with her? A silly book, no sleep, and there she was, acting the fool. Even worse. A fool could be excused. She was failing like a rookie. Tina crawled to her knees.

“What are you doing? Stop?”

“It’s okay,” she whispered. The thief’s eyes were trained on her.  _ Good _ . At least this she could do _. _ “We are unarmed. Look at me, I’m hurt. Just let us go.”

Before the thief could wave his wand, a blast tore it away from his grasp. Tina didn’t wait. She jumped to her feet, fishing for her wand and pointing it at the man’s throat. She was breathing so hard she could hear the blood pumping through her veins, making her shudder and flush, and smile in victory.

Not hers, but whatever.

Tina didn’t sway her aim as Graves cuffed the man. _ This _ was a feeling Cristina would never know. She was beyond herself with excitement, ignoring the sting to her forehead and the sweat pooling under her arms. Her trousers were torn on the knees and dirty brown, but did she care? Did she spend long introspective narratives describing her suffering with a string of adjectives? Of course not! She poked the thief with her wand and prompted him to walk faster.

“Well, this was an unexpected turn of events,” she said. “We did it, sir.”

Graves didn’t reply.

To his credit, he waited until the prisoner had exchanged hands and they were alone once again to address the issue, but her eagerness had already been doused in what felt like cold water. Tina didn’t know why she expected camaraderie between her and her boss, for God’s sake, but it had her slumping her shoulders in disappointment. 

Graves was also disappointed in her. The twitch in his upper lip always resurged whenever he was pissed. He also strode down the hall in committed steps, not bothering to check if Tina was trailing behind him or if it put her in the awkward position of running.

After her performance, she didn’t blame him.

He invited her into his office. A dangerous thing, but not why “ _ Current Affairs _ ” predicted: Tina knew being called in was associated to dismissals, arguing, crying and heavy Gigglewater consumption in the afterhours. Not.... kissing. Or otherwise. She’d never thought about kissing Graves before, but it was a very viable alternative. Unlike Queenie, she had plans. None of them involved kissing Graves, and she knew, well, she knew she wasn’t probably the type of woman someone distinguished like him would go after, but if they reached the point, she’d rather smooch him than face–

Tina blinked and waved her nervousness away. She was a composed, professional Auror, who’d suffered a bump in her career, but nothing she could not convince her boss to look past. If it took her scrubbing a few bathrooms, making coffee, and cleaning tables until she got back to her feet, that’s exactly what she’d do. Not kissing. Because she wasn’t that kind of girl.

They both sat down.

“What I want to know,” Graves said, stopping to measure his words, “is how one of my Aurors managed to put herself and her superior in danger.”

Yeaaaah, demotion it was.

Tina started sweating. Not that she wasn’t before, but she started sweating more, if humanly possible. Oh, no, she didn’t want to plead. Would she have to plead? Because she was ready to get on her knees for her job and – wait. What she didn’t need, right at that moment, were those pesky thoughts insinuating their way into her head!

Tina bowed her head politely.

“I apologize, sir. I know I have no way to-”

“Mrs. Goldstein, you’ve just told me, half an hour ago, you expected to be considered for more than junior assignments.”

Tina got red around the ears. She’d almost prefer the undoubtedly despicable and inappropriate tasks Gerard had for Cristina than this verbal smackdown. He didn’t know what humiliation was; he’d never even reprimanded Cristina for spilling her coffee over his shirt that one day! What was a spanking in comparison to being told you were basically incompetent? 

“You’ll have to work harder than that,” Mr. Graves said, a little lower.

“I’m sorry, sir. I haven’t slept at all. You know, it’s just too hot, and-”

“Take the rest of the day off, Tina.”

Her lips flapped but there was no sound.

“Sir, I-”

“Goodbye.”

This was the problem with her, she thought. Tina gritted her teeth together to stop her eyes from watering. Of course she was never going to prove herself a fully fledged Auror. She had effed up. She had effed up real bad, in front of her boss, and a matter so simple she was in awe she wasn’t demoted to filing service the second she got a wand pointed at her.

“Goodbye, sir.” 

She disapparated before she started to bawl. As she dissolved into thin air, she heard the faint traces, far away, of Graves’ voice, fading into the background as he said something suspiciously close to “–and take care of your forehead.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 2017, folks :D Guess who's back!

For the second night in a row, Porpentina couldn’t sleep.

As soon as she got home, she’d found it in herself to organize the living room (where the books had begun occupying the chairs) and the bathroom (where her late night reading had stopped Tina from cleaning up before, and the water pitch was still floating, aimlessly, pouring thin air into the tub).

Tina categorized and stacked the novels into proper order, sorted by theme and date, and if they’d already been read or not. They were magicked into a cabinet, away from prying eyes, but easily accessible, although, if Tina were honest about it, there would be more sense in using the colorful paperbacks for decoration instead of her Auror manuals and Queenie’s recipe books. The last time she flipped through MACUSA’s rulebook was when she first acquired it, but Tina loved having it on display, the black and gold hardcover proudly shining as a centerpiece above the fireplace. 

Queenie, herself, had entire recipes memorized. The  _ Kitchen’s Witch Guide to Baked Goods and More  _ sit next to the _ Culinary Herbs and Deadly Plants: An Easy Guide for the Discernible Eye _ . Tina thought it to be more of a warning to the passing visitor, but they hardly had any around.

There were magazines with the latest fashions thrown across the room, which Tina laid into a box, coupled with scissors, a ball of string, and a single knitting needle.

She dusted and swiped the counter clean, she folded the clothes, she tossed away the trash and, although it’d have taken Queenie half an hour to make dinner, Tina used her Guide to make them hot dogs for supper, since she’d had none. There was something oddly satisfying in working hard at home, directing her attention elsewhere so she could not think about what had transpired.

Tina ate five sausages topped with tomato sauce and sizzling fried onions.

It didn’t taste so bad, she thought. Maybe she could learn with Queenie, and then serving the boys coffee and donuts once she inevitably got demoted wouldn’t be so awkward.

Thinking about her fuck up felt less troubling once her belly was full. She was giving herself a metaphorical pat on the back for the job well done when Queenie arrived, bursting through the door in a flurry of pink.

“Teenie! I heard you got hurt at work!”

“Uh.” With mustard splashed on the corner of her lip and a hand on top of her tummy, Tina burped. “I was hoping to forget about that.”

Queenie’s purse flew through the kitchen and landed in the living room. She stepped out of her shoes and into the slippers as she ran towards Tina, arms waving frantically. Sparks shot from her wand and ricocheted all over the room, knocking down the lamp and tossing the pillows aside, until they finally hit a cabinet. The doors exploded open and the contents were systematically thrown outside. Cascades of brocade draped over the cushions. One platter shattered against a wall. A box of toiletries spilled over the carpet. And a first aid kit emerged, victorious, amongst the wreckage, fluctuating directly to Queenie’s fingertips.

“I should probably store it in the bathroom next time,” Tina squeaked.

“I can’t believe you haven’t treated it already,” Queenie said, unlocking the box open.It rearranged itself into a slightly larger box, then - like a russian doll - its folds opened, revealing another compartment, and then another, until the kit became a chest, and the chest became a tabletop, and the tabletop stored a million tiny boxes, each one labeled. Queenie hovered her fingers above them until her manicured nails scratched the polish to a plaque that read “Tina’s Emergencies”.

It was bigger than all the others, if not by much, and stored enough alcohol and gauze to fuel the army of an underdeveloped country. 

Queenie dabbed a cotton ball in antiseptic and pressed it against Tina’s forehead.

“Hold it.”

Tina grunted, and accepted her sister’s charity as Queenie made proper plaster with ground herbs.

“I totally forgot about this.” She pointed to her forehead. “Believe it or not. I’ve got far more pressing concerns.”

“Do tell.”

“Well.” Tina lifted her chin up. Queenie brushed away the dried blood, and Tina closed her eyes as she applied the herbs in place. “I’m facing demotion, for starters.”

“For starters?”

“Or unemployment.”

The gauze wrapped twice around her head and pinned itself in place. When Tina opened her eyes, her sister was admiring her handywork, adjusting Tina’s hair in place and fixing it beneath her own pink cap, to see if the white showed underneath. 

“Don’t be so dramatic. Madam Director threatens to fire you every month. At least.”

“But this time Mr. Graves… It’s bad."

Tina shook her head. Queenie’s hat tilted to the side, and she took the opportunity to take it back, critically giving her approval after tucking a loose strand behind Tina’s ear. 

“I think it’s the wands’ permit office for me. Or worse,” she shuddered. Imagining her life tucked away behind a desk was never easy. “Secretary work.”

“There is nothing bad,” Queenie begun, gentle despite the decisiveness of her voice, “with what I do.”

“I didn’t-” Didn’t what? Think? Of course she didn’t. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know. But it doesn’t meant it didn’t hurt.”

Now she was miserable, and she couldn’t even show it because of Queenie.

Despite her skill as a legilimens, Queenie never let people’s fleeting dark thoughts trouble her outlook on life. There was so much Tina admired about her sister: how she took care of others, how she learnt to do chores around the house so Tina didn’t have to, the way she supported Tina’s career choice in every way she could. Queenie was the strongest one of them because she was clad in kindness. She was sweet. It didn’t mean she was stupid. 

“Of course,” Tina sighed. Her hand found Queenie’s, and her sister squeezed it back. “I’m sorry. You’re not… lesser, because you work serving the boys. Or because you like fashion and cooking. And those stupid romance novels.” Tina waved her hand in the air to show she was kidding, making Queenie chuckle. “Or being the girl I could never be. I never thought that. Ever. In fact, I admire you more for those little things I’m unable to do.”

“Like fixing your hair?”

“Like fixing my hair, yeah.”

Tina nearly wished Queenie was reading her thoughts so she could see the truth for what it was. She pulled her sister into a hug, and thought, for all her tough demeanor, once they’d grown up, Queenie was the one looking out for her.

“Thanks for all you’ve done for me. I couldn’t have a better sister.”

The warmth radiating from Queenie’s body felt like the only sure thing in her life. Tina couldn’t afford to lose that just because she made an ass of herself from time to time. Inhaling and holding her breath until her chest threatened to burst, Tina let it all go in one deep sigh.

“Ugh. You’ve made me realize there’s someone else I need to apologize to.”

“Oh?” If possible, Queenie’s big blue eyes appeared even bigger. “Are you going to beg for you job? I don’t think you really have to. I mean… You’re good at what you do. Everyone screws up from time to time.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have expressed myself better.” The idea of apologizing to Graves soured her mood. “He might be terrible, but as my boss, he was still right by reprimanding me. I could’ve gotten the two of us killed.”

“Yes,” Queenie nodded. Despite the sweet face, with the pink puckered lips, her smile was wicked. “But he’s a dick.”

Not a reason for being an ass back. Tina knew that, now.

“Like, a total dick, but what an ass, right? I mean that literally,” Queenie clarified. “If only he didn’t wear that cape of his everywhere, he’d be much more forgivable.”

Tina gaped. Queenie stared.

“Wait, you work with him. You haven’t oogled his behind before?””

Tina could not stop gaping.

“The front is okay too, I guess.” 

“Queenie!”

She was now blushing furiously. Queenie always dealt better with boys. She was the one stealing all hearts at Ilvermony. It shouldn’t embarrass Tina to hear her sister talking about a man, except said man was her boss, and this was incredibly inappropriate! 

“I get afraid for you, you know? You never talk about men. At first I thought you might be thinking about your career too much, then I thought, wait, maybe she likes girls - except you never talk about girls either, and who’s going to take care of you when I’m not here? I always thought, well, there’s nothing wrong with being a spinster if that’s what you’re ok with, either, but you’re kinda shy, and it’s one of the few subjects where you never opened up to me and-”

“Queenie!”

“You don’t have to be ashamed of yourself, Teenie.”

“Oh, please.”

It was relieving to hear only the buzz of the summer insects on the outside, going at their own pace, and Queenie’s erratic ramblings stop to nothing. She was glad Queenie wasn’t prying. If she wanted to, she could. Her mind was unwrapped and laid open to her.

Tears prickled her eyes.

“You’re perfect, Queenie.”

There was no competing with that.

Boys talked to her, at Ilvermony. They did. But when the first boy she liked invited her out to a Quidditch game, they’d sat side by side on the bleachers, knees touching, and then he said “Hey, do you think your sister would like to come to a game with me?”

She’d never resented Queenie. The boy, a Tom or Thomas or something like that, had said Queenie was so gorgeous she was unapproachable. And once they found out about her Gift, they always ran away.

It must’ve been hard on her, too. 

“God.” Tina took her hands to her head. “You know what? Just forget that. I’ve made hot dogs for dinner, since I ate none at lunch. Why don’t you tell me what you think of them?”

“Have you made the sauce, too?”

“Yeah. Fresh tomatoes.” Tina clicked her tongue against the ceiling of her mouth. 

They both sat down. Only after Queenie was full, after eating one too many sausages out of politeness, Tina guessed, she slipped back into the subject, taking advantage of Tina’s mellowness after her slip up. One of many.

“You know, there’s nothing wrong with enjoying a book, Teenie.”

“I know.” Tina tried not being defensive. It was hard. The walls came up so fast she got whiplash. 

“You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to. But I think they’re going to be good for you. Healthy. You know, sometimes, reading is a way for us to deal with emotions we don’t have the courage to face in real life.”

“Sometimes,” Tina shrugged, “they’re just fun.”

“Yeah,” Queenie’s lips opened into a smile. “Yeah, they’re fun. Although, I sorta thought there was a reason behind your love for this particular book, you know? The one you’re reading now.”

Tina felt her shoulders stiffening. Relax. Goddamit. Why could she not force herself to relax?

“I’ve read some of the others. They aren’t good, but… They’re harmless, right? I don’t even know why they’d be forbidden as any other Non Maj object. Not like they could teach us dark spells or anything.”

“Sure, but… You know, I always thought you’d picked this one in particular for a reason,” Queenie prodded. 

“The evil twin storyline is moronic,” Tina spit. 

“Teenie, don’t you think the book is a bit,” she stopped. Queenie was stopping at every other sentence, like she often did when measuring her words against Tina’s iron will. It was annoying, particularly so, because now it made Queenie look like Cristina, so indecisive she… talked… like… that… Every damn time. “A bit… I don’t know, recognizable?”

“Well, the heroine is a working class girl, so it’s a bit more relatable than all those foreign princesses sold to savages. Or the,” Tina gulped down, hiding her face behind a mug of reheated coffee, “courtesans.”

“She also works at a police station, doesn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“With an annoying boss…?”

“Oh god,” Tina rubbed her forehead. “So annoying.”

Queenie closed her eyes and let go of her breath.

“Her name is Tina, Teenie.”

Tina stilled.

“Her boss is called Greyve!” Queenie’s frustration had piled up so tall her usually calm and composed voice was still calm and composed - albeit in a higher pitch than usual.

It was climbing higher. 

“Is that the detective work you do, Teenie?”

“What?!”

Her sister’s smile looked plastered on.

“Don’t you think there’s a reason why you’ve gotten hooked up on the novel where the main character is basically you?”

“I’m not an idiot! Who falls for her stupid arrogant boss, on top of all that.” Tina gritted her teeth. 

“They have your names!”

Tina squinted.

“Did you have anything to do with that?”

“... Maybe?”

“You’re lucky I’ve fucked up enough today to grant someone else a free pass.”

“I’m just too cute for you to get mad at me. Also, no swearing on the house.” Queenie pointed behind Tina, who closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. 

“You’re gonna bleed me dry.”

A mason jar flew over to her. Queenie had written “Goldstein’s Sister Vacations” on it in cursive two years ago, and it was filled the the brim with bronze coins (and in a memorable occasion, a silver one). Only after Tina sunk her hand into her pocket to search for her change she realized she had no money.

“What?” Queenie asked, as her sister grew pale. “Did you forget your wallet?”

“Yeah.”

“If you don’t pay up now, it’s double tomorrow. The swear jar doesn’t forgive.”

“I know.”

“It’s a minor offense,” Queenie tilted the head to the side. “It isn’t like the day you stubbed your toe and the landlady had to-”

“Queenie, I forgot my wallet in my briefcase.”

“Oh.”

“At work.”

“Well, that’s troubling.”

“The book was in there.”

Queenie slapped her hands against her mouth.

“Oh no! Were you too close to the end?”

Tina closed her eyes.

“Penultimate chapter.”

“Shit,” Queenie said.

The swear jar flew happily between them.

 


End file.
